


A Potter and A Weasley

by mashed_potato_with_cheese



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Not Canon Compliant, Oblivious Harry Potter, Oblivious Reader, Sassy Harry Potter, Slow Burn, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:49:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 15,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27166150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mashed_potato_with_cheese/pseuds/mashed_potato_with_cheese
Summary: HIATUSYour name is Veronica Weasley, the youngest Weasley sibling, and the only girl. You develop a crush on Ron's best friend Harry, and are getting confusingly closer to him just as his name is called from the Goblet of Fire.Slow burn starting with Goblet of Fire
Relationships: Harry Potter/Original Female Character(s), Harry Potter/Reader
Kudos: 61





	1. Starting With a Bang

**Author's Note:**

> Basically you're the youngest Weasley sibling and you have a crush on Harry, who keeps almost dying (annoyingly)

Your fourth year starts with a bang. Literally. Fred and George shoot off fireworks in the place of an alarm clock. 

“God, you gits! It’s 7 in the morning!” you yell, pulling your pillow over your head. The twins laugh loudly.

“A bit much for you?” Fred teases.

“Her delicate ears can’t handle it,” says George. 

“Oh, I am going to kill you!” you say, but you can’t suppress a grin.

“Uh-oh,” the boys say in tandem before running from the room. You catapult out of bed and chase them down the stairs, laughing with them all the way. Ron nearly opens his door into your face before jumping back.

“Bloody hell!” he groans. “Can’t have a peaceful morning in this house.” A loud thud sounds below you, and your mum yells loudly.

“For heaven’s sake! Stop running around the house like a band of rhinos!”

“Sorry, Mum,” you call gleefully. The thud was Fred falling down the stairs. Serves him right. You make your way the rest of the way to the kitchen, welcomed by the scent of cooking pancakes and bacon.

“Good morning, dear,” Mum says exasperatedly. “When we go school shopping today, could you and your brothers please behave yourselves?”

“Of course,” you reply sweetly. “They’re the troublemakers, I’m just an innocent bystander.”

“Right,” says Mum, rolling her eyes. She smiles as she does though, so you know she isn’t really mad. 

Ron and the twins join you at the table, and lastly Dad sits down.

“How did everyone sleep?” he asks, as he does every morning. A chorus of “fine, thanks” sounds before you dig in to the large meal in front of you. Ron’s and your fourth year starts tomorrow, which means that today is shopping day. You’ve been promised new robes this year (your father received a bonus at work) and you’re more excited than usual to get to Hogwarts and see your friends, namely Harry Potter. 

“Alright, everyone get dressed!” Mum calls after breakfast is over. You stand up are nearly bowled over by Fred and George racing to get to their room.

“Every day,” you mutter under your breath as you stalk up the stairs. Your room is on the third floor of the Burrow in the attic. There’s a large window overlooking the yard with a window seat, and you keep your bookshelf right next to it. Your bed is in the corner on top of a soft purple rug, and your walls are decorated with Quidditch posters and drawings. It’s your favorite place, a sanctuary in the loud, bustling house.

You pull on some simple jeans and a green sweater and head back downstairs. The twins are tossing a ball of sparks around, and Ron is stuffing snacks into his pockets. A small grin crosses your face. You’ll be at Hogwarts tomorrow with your family, seeing your friends, settling in your dorms. 

And of course, you’ll see Harry. Ron’s best friend, who you stupidly fell for. Harry, the boy who lived, Gryffindor Seeker extraordinaire, and your infuriatingly attractive friend. You’ve had a slight (okay maybe not slight) crush on him since first year, but you couldn’t do that to Ron. And you’re pretty sure that Harry likes Cedric Diggory’s girlfriend, Cho Chang. He would never go for his best friend’s little sister, he’s too caring for that. 

Mum rouses you from your thoughts, calling you to the chimney. She holds the little can of Floo Powder.

“Alright, Fred, you go first. And don’t even think about trying to tell me you’re George, I know you’re Fred,” says Mum. Fred grins.

“You know me too well,” he says, grabbing a handful of Floo Powder and disappearing in green flames. George goes, then Ron, and then it’s your turn. Floo travel always makes you a bit dizzy, so you step apprehensively into the large fireplace, taking some powder in your hand. Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes.

“Diagon Alley!” you say clearly. The green flames consume you, spinning you wildly into the entrance of the alley. You stumble out of the fireplace. Someone catches you and keeps you from falling flat on your face.

“Alright there?” says a concerned voice. You look up, surprised at the voice. Harry Potter is holding you, an arm around you waist and one gripping your hand.

“Um,” you say, very intelligently.

“Don’t worry, Floo Powder does a number on me too,” he says kindly, releasing your waist but still keeping his hold on your hand.

“Uh, thank you. For, you know, catching me.” You tuck a piece of hair behind your ear nervously and blush as red as your hair.

“Can’t have you falling and ruining the shopping trip, can we?” he says with a grin. Mum and Dad come through just then, and Harry quickly releases your hand.

Your group heads to the Madam Malkin’s first. New robes are a rare thing, and you intend to get them as soon as possible. A store attendant measure you and Ron, you for new robes and Ron for modification on George’s old robes. The fabric is soft and warm, and you feel jittery with excitement as the final improvements are made.

“To Flourish and Blott’s!” Dad calls loudly. You carefully fold up your robes and put them gingerly in your bag before heading out the door with your family. Ron and Harry walk a bit ahead, laughing about a conversation you can’t quite hear. You smile to yourself as you look at Harry, his wild hair tousled around his head. He looks happy right now, not thinking about the dark wizard who wants to kill him for once. He carries a heavy burden, but he’s been nothing but kind to everyone around him. It’s what drew you to him, what continues to draw you. He’s simply good.

The bustling bookstore seizes your attention. Mum immediately goes to get your books, putting them in her bag. She doesn’t trust the twins to get their own books, and you and Ron are too easily distractable. That’s illustrated by the fact that you immediately go to the fiction section, scanning through covers detailing monsters, wizards, and wild adventures. The books you read in the Hogwarts library but never buy, the books that smell like old parchment and knowledge. 

“I didn’t know you were a bookworm,” says a voice behind you. You spin around and see Harry looking at you inquisitively.

“Oh, uh, yeah,” you say quietly. He nods.

“I read a lot when I lived with my aunt and uncle. I don’t read much anymore, since it was sort of an escape, you know? And now I live in the place I wanted to escape to.” He smiles. It occurs to you that the world you grew up in is the stuff of storybooks in Harry’s world.

“I don’t read them to escape, but I understand that,” you say slowly. “I read because I like hearing other people’s thoughts and opinions. I want to understand as much as possible.” You fall silent, realizing how silly you must sound. He told you a personal childhood story, and you responded with how smart you wanted to be.

“You should be a Ravenclaw with that attitude,” he says with a grin. You smile back after a moment, relieved that he isn’t mad. 

“I did think I’d be a Ravenclaw for a while, but I’m glad to be in Gryffindor. It’s my family’s house, and I feel like I belong there.” Another personal statement. Why are you telling him so much? He looks as though he’s about to respond, but your Dad calls everyone to the exit. 

You hardly see Harry for the rest of the day. One by one you stop at every store: Slug and Jigger’s Apothecary (Ron accidentally blew up his cauldron last year), Quality Quidditch Supplies (for Quidditch robes and the new broom you’d saved up for), and Zonko’s (the twins insist). You end up at the Magical Menagerie, your favorite store. It’s loud with hoots and meows and squeaks and croaks. Ron looks at the owls with the twins, but you make your way to the kittens. You already have an owl. His name is Archimedes, or Archie for short. He was a gift in your first year.

The kittens are jumping around, playing with each other, and some are napping in the corner. One catches your eye though. He’s black and white, a long-haired breed. He sits perfectly still in the middle of the cage, looking up at you as if waiting for something. 

“Well, hello there,” you say softly. He lifts his paw and meows a bit, and you could swear he smiles at you. Your hand goes automatically to your purse, checking to see if there’s enough money for you to bring this kitten home. Of course, you spent your money on a new broom already. Less than a galleon remains in your bag, and kittens are three galleons at least. You turn away from the cage and nearly bump into Harry.

“I think that cat chose you,” he says lightly.

“So do I, but I already have an owl.” You refuse to tell him it’s a money problem, Harry just would buy the kitten for you. Before he can respond, you walk past him out the door, blinking back a few tears.


	2. The Trellis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a bit short, sorry. hope you like it <3

That evening at home, you avoid Harry as much as possible. He’s staying the night and coming with you to school tomorrow, but that doesn’t mean you have to see him. You’re embarrassed at your little breakdown. Harry would never make fun of you for that, but every time he looks at you there’s a concern in his eyes that makes you want to fall into his arms, which you will not be doing any time soon. 

After dinner you hastily head to your room. Harry will be staying in Ron’s room, a floor below yours. You can’t help but think about him as you prepare for bed, about the way he apple to you today. He seemed… curious, as though he really was interested in getting to know you. 

Which he isn’t, of course. You’re just his best friend’s little sister.

That night a loud crashing noise wakes you up. Groggily, you climb out of bed and look out the window, expecting to see the twins doing something stupid, but instead you see a certain Harry Potter climbing up the trellis.

“Harry?” you whisper-shout. “What are you doing?” He looks up fast and almost falls out the window.

“Oh! Um, hi.” He smiles awkwardly. “Can I, uh, can I come in?” You smile a bit despite yourself.

“Yeah, come on,” you say, extending a hand down. He takes it, and pulls himself through the window with surprising ease.

“Thanks,” he says, barely out of breath.

“Done that before?” you joke slightly. Then you realize you just asked him if he’s climbed into a girl’s window before and kick yourself mentally.

“You don’t defeat the Dark Lord and free wanted criminals without picking up a few things,” he responds with a grin. There’s a moment of silence, not uncomfortable.

“So, mind telling me why you were climbing the trellis in the middle of the night?” you ask.

“Oh, right. I snuck out during dinner, I was running an errand,” he says, still smiling.

“An errand? At midnight?”

“A very important errand.” He reaches into a bag you hadn’t noticed before and pulls out a little ball of fur.

“Oh,” you breathe out. He’s holding the kitten, the one from the pet store, the one that sat so perfectly, watching you.

“Do you like him?” Harry asks nervously. You reach forward and take the kitten, holding him close. He purrs softly.

“Yes, of course,” you say. “Thank you, Harry. Thank you so much.” Harry smiles even wider and looks at his feet for a moment.

“Well, I saw how he looked at you in the pet store and I couldn’t leave him there.” Harry looks so pleased at your reaction, and your eyes can’t seem to decide who to focus on: the kitten or Harry’s beaming face.

“What should I call you, little one?” you say softly, looking into the creature’s bright eyes. He meows sweetly, looking back up at you.

“I, uh, I may have named him Chester by accident. It just seemed to suit him, and it popped into my mind when I was telling him to quiet down.” Harry blushes bright red.

“Chester it is. It does suit him quite well.” You smile at Harry, and his blush only gets pinker. 

“So, I’ll just be going then,” he says awkwardly, still not moving. You set Chester down on your bed, and, in a sudden rush of boldness, hug Harry tightly.

“Thank you,” you say again, arms around his neck. He hugs you back after a moment, lightly, as if unsure exactly where to put his hands.

“Yeah, of course,” he says, blushing again. You release him and scoop Chester up again. Harry gives you another smile before walking out the door. With an embarrassingly large smile, you make a bed of blankets for Chester and go to bed yourself.


	3. Departure

Your mum barely questions why you have a cat the next day, simply saying she won’t be taking care of it. She’s stressed enough trying to all of her children, plus one, on the Hogwarts Express before 11:00. It’s currently 10:00 and Ron is wearing pajamas, the twins are just now packing their trunks, and Harry can’t find his tie. You’re simply helping your Mum in the kitchen, being the “responsible” one. A responsible Weasley means that you're slightly less annoying than the rest of them. 

“Alright, let’s get to the car,” says Dad loudly. You grab your wand, tuck it into your waistband, and head to grab your trunk. 

Ron and the twins are loading theirs, but they don’t even think about carrying yours. Not out of lack of chivalry, but because you’d always insist you could do it yourself. Growing up the only girl in a house full of brothers meant you always needed to prove yourself, and at some point the boys just sort of accepted that you wouldn’t hesitate to make their lives hell if they treated you as anything less than equal. 

“Do you want help?” Harry asks. You almost drop your trunk as you turn around.

“No, I’ve got it, thanks,” you reply quickly.

“I know,” he responds. You stare at him, and he fidgets with his hands.

“I know you can carry it, I just thought I’d ask if you wanted to.” He looks sheepish.

“Oh. Well, I suppose if you want to be a gentleman about it,” you say with a grin. He looks up and smiles back before easily taking your trunk to the car. A bit flustered, you tuck a piece of hair behind your ear and smile to yourself before following him out the door.

“Since when do you let people carry your stuff?” asks Ron. You ignore him, deciding that he would be too obtuse to understand. Fred glances between you and Harry and nudges George, who does the same before smiling knowingly at you. Your roll your eyes and brush past them to join you father. 

One dizzying Apparition later, you and your family are standing outside King’s Cross, in an alleyway so no Muggles wonder how you managed to spin into a state of physical being. You’re in downtown London, so no one will question people walking out of a random alley. Muggles are weird that way. 

The train station is bustling, and you struggle to find a cart. Chester meows loudly from his place in your bag, his little head sticking over the side. You smile and pet him gently to quiet him down as the family approaches Platform 9¾. 

“Alright, you boys go first,” says Mum, gesturing at the twins. They take a running start and melt right through the wall. Harry looks in awe and shakes his head.  
“Never get used to that,” he says. Ron goes next, followed by Harry, and then it’s your turn.

“See you on the other side,” you say cheerfully before running headfirst through the wall. As always, there’s just a bit of fear that you may get stuck, that the walls will swallow you whole and never let you go. You don’t get stuck, of course, and you smile a bit when you see the bright and shiny Hogwarts Express. Your parents emerge shortly after, and you’re swept into tight hugs and cheek kisses as they bid their goodbyes.

“If I get a single note about misbehavior, I’m pulling you out and you’re coming straight home,” Mum says sternly. You grin and nod, knowing that at the worst you’ll get a Howler.  
A flurry of farewells later, you finally manage to get aboard the train. All of the compartments seem to be filled, and you walk down much of the train before you find the seat you want.

“Oi! Over here, Weasley,” calls a familiar voice. You grin and turn into the compartment. 

“God, you’re loud, Finnigan,” you say, storing your trunk. You, Seamus Finnigan, and Dean Thomas are a very unlikely trio, but Merlin do you have a good time.

“Hi, Veronica. How was your summer?” asks Dean, waving at you kindly. He’s the calmest out of the three of you, and the one that keeps you more or less in check.

“Just fine, yours?” You settle in and set Archie next to you before pulling Chester out of your bag and letting him wander the compartment bench.

“Fine, thanks. Got a new friend?” Dean looks curiously at Chester, who is now scratching at the fabric of the seats.

“He was a gift. Name’s Chester,” you say, smiling fondly at the little kitten.

“So, have you heard we’re allowed on Hogsmeade trips this year?” asks Seamus.

“Got a date in mind?” you tease. You know full well he has a crush on Eliza Marshall, who happens to be unaware of his existence. Seamus rolls his eyes.

“You’re one to talk, you’ve got your eye on the Chosen Once himself.” He smirks mischievously at you as you blush bright red.

“I do not!” you retort quickly. Dean snorts.

“You’re trying to tell me that you don’t have the hots for Harry? Merlin, we’re not blind,” Seamus says in between laughs. You try to scowl, but can’t stop yourself from laughing with them. 

“You’re both gits,” you say, which only makes them laugh harder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> updating like a normal person? never heard of her


	4. An Announcement

You reach Hogwarts just on time, as usual. Chester is tucked into your robes, but your trunk and Archie will be brought to your dorm. Since Chester is so new, you feel a bit anxious leaving him behind.

“He’s very small,” says Dean thoughtfully.

“Very astute observation, Mr. Thomas,” you reply sarcastically. 

“No, I meant even for a kitten. He seems small.” He looks at Chester, nestled up in your robe pocket, and smiles. 

“Let’s go, I’m hungry,” whines Seamus. You grin and pat his head patronizingly.

“Ok, Finnigan, let’s get to dinner.” He scowls at you, but it quickly turns into a laugh.

“Thank you, Mum,” he says. That makes you laugh, which makes Dean laugh, which makes Seamus laugh harder, and so on in a joyful cycle. 

As you finally collect yourselves, an empty carriage arrives. Knowing you would punch him if he tried to be chivalrous, Seamus climbs in first. You and Dean settle in as well, but someone stops the carriage from moving.

“Room for one more?” asks Harry. He grins up at you. Your voice catches in your throat and Seamus gives you a mischievous smile.

“Sure, come on,” he says. Harry pulls himself in and sits next to you. Is he closer than he needs to be? You clear your throat.

“Not riding with Ron and Hermione?” you ask.

“I fell behind them,” he says simply. You decide not to question him further, instead opting to strike up a conversation with Dean about Quidditch. Harry puts his arm on the top of the bench, right behind your back. Stiffening a bit, you steal a glance at him. He’s not looking at you. In the midst of talking to the boys, he could not be paying less attention to you. His arm is not around you, he’s just sitting in a relaxed manner. It doesn’t mean anything. 

When you arrive at the castle, Harry jumps easily out of the carriage and offers you his hand hesitantly. You smile and take it as you jump down, landing next to him. Seamus and Dean break into a chorus of “ooooooh” and you flip them off behind you back, which makes Harry laugh. 

The Great Hall is loud and bright, full of laughter and talking. You can’t help but smile as you walk in and sit at the table, across from Fred and George. Ron plops down next to you, and Harry sits on the other side. Hermione smiles kindly at you around Ron. You don’t know her very well, but you know she’s great friends with Ron and Harry, and she’s always been kind to you.

“Who’s that?” Dean says in your ear. You look at where he ‘s pointing, to the staff table, and see a hunched man with a scowl on his face. He has a glass eye that spins around wildly in his head. You grimace.

“No idea,” you reply. You avert your eyes. Something about the man gives you the creeps. 

“Welcome to another year at Hogwarts!” says Dumbledore. You mostly zone out during his announcements. Don’t go in restricted areas, don’t break school rules, all that stuff, but two of his topics pique your interest.

“Our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher will be Professor Alastor Moody.” The man with the glass eye nods at the recognition but makes no move to stand.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if this one turns out to be You-Know-Who as well,” says Seamus quietly. 

“And finally, we will not be having the House Cup this year.” Your eyes widen. No House Cup? “Hogwarts has been honored as the hosts of the Triwizard Tournament. Anyone over the age of 17 may enter, but be warned. The tournament will test your wits, but it will also test your bravery. One champion will be chosen from our school, and one each from Beauxbatons Academy of Magic and Durmstrang Institute.” He waves his hand at the door, which flies open to reveal a group of beautiful, blue-clad women and a giantess. 

“Blimey, that’s one big woman,” whispers Seamus. You smack his shoulder. The Beauxbaton girls make their way elegantly down the Great Hall, practically floating on their feet. Ron looks absolutely smitten. You dread the expression on Harry’s face, hoping he isn’t taken by any of these seemingly perfect girls, so you don’t look. 

Which means you don’t see him looking at you. 

“And now please greet the Sons of Durmstrang and their headmaster Igor Karkaroff,” Dumbledore announces. A large crew of very muscular boys walks through the door, holding staffs and slamming them into the ground. 

“Is that…” you ask.

“It’s him! Viktor Krum!” Ron says admiringly. You’re about to tease him about his adoration, but a phoenix made of fire takes flight and explodes at the front of the room, effectively drawing your attention. Karkaroff and the giantess take their seats, and Dumbledore waves his hand, revealing a large stone goblet, lit up with blue fire.

“This is the Goblet of Fire,” he says. “If you are of age, you may place your name in the flames for a chance to compete in the tournament. I would not advise any one younger than 17 to attempt.” He looks around the room sternly. “Now, let the feast begin!” The tables fill with food.

“Triwizard Tournament?” Hermione says incredulously. “Students have died in that thing, and they’re bringing it to Hogwarts.” She shakes her head and looks down at her plate.

“It’ll make things more interesting,” says Ron absently, staring at the Beauxbaton girls. 

“Ron, there’s something wrong with your eyes,” I say. He looks up, startled.

“What? What’s wrong?” He frantically rubs his eyes.

“It’s so strange, your pupils… they’re turning into hearts!” you say dramatically, feigning the utmost concern. Harry and the twins laugh loudly and Ron rolls his eyes. You smirk and turn back to your food, not noticing Harry’s eyes on you.


	5. The Champions

The weeks leading up to the tournament are odd, to say the least. Apparently, the names will be drawn on Halloween, which gives about a month for students to submit their names. The Goblet has become quite the gathering spot after classes as students watch others drop the little pieces of parchment into the flames.

The room breaks into loud cheers as Krum drop his name in. He never seems to smile, and he performs his submission with the same amount of gravity as he does everything else. Hermione blushes a bit when the boy walks past her.

“Got a crush on Krum, do you?” you say, nudging her gently.

“No, of course not.” She sounds indignant, but you see the way her eyes follow Krum as he leaves the room. 

The favorite from Beauxbatons seems to be Fleur Delacour, a pretty blond girl. Ron practically worships at her feet. You find yourself looking at her sometimes as well, but mostly in wonder. She interacts with everyone so easily, charming them with a mere breath. It’s fascinating. 

A Hufflepuff boy named Cedric Diggory is the popular choice for Hogwarts. He’s tall, sociable, handsome, smart, the whole package. You’ve seen at least three Beauxbaton girls around him at once. When he drops his name into the Goblet, even you cheer a bit. School pride, after all. 

The regular activity around the great blue flame comes to a halt when Fred and George come running into the room, whooping loudly. You roll your eyes.

“Thank you, thank you,” Fred says. 

“What stupid scheme have you cooked up this time?” you ask. 

“Just a simple aging potion,” George calls from behind you.

“Cooked it up this morning,” Fred chimes in.

“And what makes you think you’ll get passed the age line with one your dimwitted ideas?” Hermione says with a small smile.

“That’s the beauty of it,” says Fred.

“It’s so pathetically dim-witted.” The twins chug the potions and hop over the line. The hall breaks into cheers when nothing happens. As soon as they drop their names in, though, they’re both thrown backward by blue light. When they sit up, you and Hermione laugh hysterically at the white birds on their faces. 

“You’re both idiots,” you say between bouts of laughter. 

Halloween comes up quickly, and the now unbearded twins sit sulkily during the feast. Everyone’s on edge, jittery with excitement. Hundreds of bets have been placed and the tournament hasn’t even started yet. 

You sit with Seamus and Dean on one side, Harry and Ron on the other. The Hall is full of students from each school, everyone fighting for a good place to sit.

“Sit down, everyone,” chides Dumbledore. “It is time for the selection of the champions!” He reaches out a hand, dramatically turning to face the goblet. You and every other students’ eyes are glued to him, to the blue flames as they turn red for a moment and spit out a slip of paper. 

“The Durmstrang champion is Viktor Krum!” Dumbledore announces. Cheers erupt around the room, and a few of the more smitten girls scream unnecessarily loudly. The muscular boy comes forward and shakes Dumbledore’s hand before the flames turn red again. You realize you’re holding your breath as Dumbledore reads the next name. 

“From Beauxbatons, Fleur Delacour!” Ron cheers the loudest this time, his eyes trained only on the girl as she makes her way up to stand next to Krum. You roll your eyes, grinning. He could fall in love with a toad if it had blond hair. 

“And finally, the Hogwarts champion, Cedric Diggory!” The hall goes into cheers again, you among them. Cedric is quite a gifted wizard, it’s possible he could win. He smiles widely as his friends cheer him on, making his way up to the other two champions. Seamus whistles loudly, and Dean claps obscenely hard. 

“Excellent! We now have our three champions. In the end, though, only one with receive this chalice of champions, the Triwizard Cup!” Carty Crouch reveals a glowing cup, beautifully crafted. You stare at it in awe, but your attention is soon taken by Dumbledore turning back to the goblet. Its flames begin to rise again. Whispers abound in the halls as another slip flies into Dumbledore’s hands. He looks at it in shock for a moment.

“Harry Potter.” His voice is hushed. “Harry Potter?” Harry is pale as a ghost. He doesn’t stand, doesn’t even move.

“Harry Potter!” Dumbledore yells. Harry slowly gets to his feet and walks up the hall, making his way to the champions. A few people protest loudly, calling him a cheat, a fraud, a liar. You can only watch in shock. This boy, the boy who faced Voldemort twice, has entered into a dangerous tournament.

It’s the least Harry-like thing you’ve ever heard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quality twins content <3


	6. An Offer of Help

The champions go to Dumbledore’s office after the feast, leaving you and your friends to worry about Harry. 

“There’s no way he put his name in, it has to be a joke or something,” you say as you make your way back to the dormitories. Ron scowls at you.

“Of course he put it in, he wants the spotlight again this year.”

“Ronald Weasley, you had better take that back! Harry didn’t want any of the things that happened, and I’m sure he doesn’t want this.” You hear the anger creep into your voice. Seamus and Dean come up behind you.

“I mean, isn’t it a bit suspicious? He beat Voldemort, couldn’t he beat a simple age line?” Seamus says.

“It’s not a question of ability! Harry wouldn’t do this!” you practically yell.

“Since when do you care so much about Harry?” asks Ron angrily. You stare at him, unsure of how to respond.

“She’s just confused, like all of us,” Dean says calmly. You sigh in relief and mouth a thank you to him. He smiles and pats your shoulder. 

“You need to talk to him, Ron. He’ll tell you what’s happening.” You look imploringly at your brother, who just continues to scowl at you.

“I’m not talking to that git,” he says before stalking off ahead of you. You close your eyes and take a deep breath. Dean hooks his arm through yours, and Seamus follows suit. You can’t help but smile a little, sandwiched in between two of your best friends.

“Harry’s going to be fine, okay? They can’t make him compete if he didn’t put his name in,” Dean says reassuringly. You nod a little bit.

“Come on, let’s get to the dorms. We’ll smuggle you in, there’s Butterbeer and Honeydukes sweets calling our name,” Seamus says cheerfully, pulling you and Dean towards the common room. And that night, just for those few hours, you forgot your worries about Harry and everything else. 

The worries return first thing the next morning. At some point during the night you made your way back to your own dorm, so at least you wake up in your own bed. Everything goes downhill from there. 

Harry and Ron are sitting at opposite ends of the table in the Great Hall. You go and gingerly sit next to Harry, across from Seamus and Dean. He looks exhausted. Dark circles stand out against his green eyes, his skin is ghostly pale.

“I suppose your talk with Ron didn’t go well?” you ask.

“He thinks I put my name in,” says Harry in a dull voice.

“I’ll talk to him,” you reply, annoyed. Before you can stand, Harry grabs your hand.

“Don’t try,” he says. “Ron’s being stubborn and you don’t need to get caught up in that. Just… you believe me, right? You know I didn’t do this?” He sounds almost desperate.

“Of course I believe you. You wouldn’t do this.” You give a definitive nod, and Harry’s shoulders relax a bit. 

“The first task is in November,” he says quietly.

“What? You’re competing?” you demand. “They can’t make you do that!”

“Apparently, they can. Being drawn from the goblet is a powerful oath.” He looks resigned at this point, but your anger is only just beginning to flare.

“But you didn’t put your name in! And you aren’t of age!” you practically explode.

“I know. But I have to,” he says simply. You stare at him, wondering how he’s so calm.

“Fine. I’ll help you prepare,” you say determinedly.

“We don’t even know what the tasks are,” Harry replies. 

“Then we’ll figure it out! You’re not going into whatever dangerous thing they make you do with no preparation!”

“Ok, I’ll prepare. But I don’t want you anywhere near this,” he says. You blink, surprised.

“Of course I’m going to help you, Harry.” It seems obvious that you’ll help him. 

“No, you’re not!” he says loudly, surprising you. He sees the expression on your face and softens.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to yell. But I don’t want you to get involved in this.” He looks sad, regretful.

“Too bad,” you say lightly. “I’m already caught up in this, and I’m much more stubborn than you.” You smile at him as best you can, and he manages to smile back.

“I forgot how hard it is to argue with a Weasley,” he jokes.


	7. A Less Than Lovely Stroll

You and Harry fall into a sort of routine. Speculate about tasks at meals, go to classes, research past tournaments at the library. Every day the same, scrounging for information hidden in between the lines. It seems to get you no closer.

“Look here, this is the second year in a row they’ve had flying in the first task,” you say, pointing at the tournament from 1654. Harry stares at you like you’re speaking Portuguese and you sigh.

“Yeah, I know, it doesn’t mean anything.” You close the book and slump down on the desk in frustration. 

“Hey, look at me.” Harry puts a hand on your shoulder and you look up at him. “You’re doing the very best you can and I’m very grateful. This just simply isn’t in your control.” You nod sullenly and sit up the rest of the way, your stiff joints cracking. 

“I just wish I could help more,” you say quietly. Harry is silent for a moment.

“Let’s go for a walk,” he says finally. You glance at him, a bit confused. He stands up and offers you his hand, smiling when you take it uncertainly. 

“Why are we going for a walk?” you ask as he pulls you through the hallways.

“To get your mind of my impending doom, of course.” He laughs to himself and opens the door. The cold air of the night hits you and you take a deep breath. It’s lovely and refreshing. You smile a bit and breath in deeply again.

“Oy! Harry!” says a gruff voice. You and Harry both spin around and look for the source, sighing in relief when you see Hagrid.

“Blimey, you scared me,” you say.

“Sorry about that, but I need to talk to Harry.” Hagrid looks deathly serious and you glance nervously at Harry.

“Is something wrong?” Harry asks.

“Well, no,” Hagrid says. His eyes dart back and forth and he fidgets with his hand. “I think it’s be a good idea if you came on a walk and stayed a bit behind me.” 

“Uh, okay?” Harry says. “Can Veronica come?” Your heart jumps a bit when he asks. Hagrid stares at you for a moment before nodding.

“Come on then,” he says, waving you forward. You and Harry start to follow him and he wildly waves at you to stop. “Stay behind me!” Uncertainly, you stand still as Hagrid takes a few steps and then follow him cautiously. 

Hagrid leads you both deep into the Forbidden Forest. You stay about twenty feet back, avoiding as much noise as possible. Night fell long ago. Shadows cast dark shapes on the forest floor, monstrous outlines in a terrifying dance. You jump when something touches you, but relax immediately when you feel Harry interlocking his fingers with yours.

“You alright?” he whispers, eyes full of concern. You nod and give him a small smile. He squeezes your hand gently and turns back to Hagrid. 

Hagrid leads you forward for about ten more minutes before looking around and wildly gesturing you forward. You glance at Harry and move up slowly, a bit apprehensive. When you move past Hagrid, Harry gasps a bit, and you quickly follow suit. 

Huge cages line the woods. Something very loud and very angry roars from within one of the cages before lighting the trees around it on fire with one breath.

“Dragons,” you breathe. Large, scaled, fire-breathing dragons. Your grip on Harry’s hand couldn’t get any tighter at this point.

“Is this the first task?” asks Harry. His voice wavers just a bit. Hagrid nods grimly.

“What? Fighting dragons? They’re children!” you exclaim, a bit louder than reasonable for a stealth mission. Hagrid shushes you.

“We’ll figure something out. Thank you for showing us, Hagrid.” Harry sounds calm, collected. How is he always so calm?

You and Harry sneak back into the castle easily. Your head is still reeling from the discovery. The first task is dragons. Harry has to fight a fucking dragon.

“What are we going to do?” you ask as soon as you return to the common room. 

“I don’t know yet,” Harry admits. 

“Harry, the first task is next week!” 

“Don’t you think I know that?” he explodes. You take a step back, realizing you pushed him too far. 

“I’m sorry,” you say softly. “I’m sorry, I’m just nervous. I don’t want you to get hurt.” A lump forms in your throat as your eyes begin to sting with tears. When one falls, tracing down your cheek, Harry walks to you slowly and brushes it away, his thumb gently brushing your cheekbone.

“I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have yelled. You’re trying to help, and I’m grateful for that.” He’s close, very close to you. You look up at him and nod slightly, taking in the concern in his green eyes. Then something hits you.

“Harry, your broom! You can use your broom! Merlin, how did I not think of that,” you exclaim.

“We aren’t allowed our brooms,” he says, face full of confusion. 

“No, but you can summon it.” A wide smile stretches across your face. “The Accio spell!” Harry’s face brightens a bit too, a glimmer of hope flashing. 

“Brilliant! Can you teach me that spell?” 

“Yes, of course. We can begin practicing tomorrow,” you say, already planning in your head. Harry’s face falls.

“Oh, right. It’s late, we’ll start tomorrow.” He looks sad and your heart twinges a bit.

“No, no, we can start today,” you say quickly. He smiles.

“Really? I mean, it’s rather late.”

“And the first task is in a week,” you counter with a grin.

“Alright, let’s go,” he says, taking your hand again and pulling you towards his dorm. Your heart nearly beats out of your chest as he leads you into his room.


	8. Two Confrontations

Harry’s room is decorated with Quidditch memorabilia and clothes strewn on the floor. You smile as you walk in, thoroughly enjoying Harry rushing around the room and scooping up laundry.

“Um, sorry about the mess. I wasn’t really expecting anyone.”

“No, it’s fine,” you say, trying to mask a laugh as a cough. 

“What the bloody hell are you doing here?” a voice calls from the other side of the room. Ron sits on his bed, glaring at you and Harry.

“I have a right to be here, it’s my dorm,” says Harry evenly, even though his eyes flash with anger.

“And my sister? Mind telling me why you’ve brought my sister into your dorm room at midnight?” Ron glares coldly at Harry, not even glancing at you.

“She’s helping me prepare for the first task.”

“Oh right, of course, you’re helping him in the middle of the night in his room. That sounds reasonable.” Ron’s turned to you now.

“It’s the truth, and leave her out of your stupid little jealousy issues.” Harry steps closer to you, almost shielding you from Ron’s view.

“Fine. Whatever. I’m staying somewhere else tonight.” He stands up and stalks out the door.

“Ron, wait!” you say. “Where are you going to sleep?” He ignore you and continues to storm off. You watch him go. Harry comes up behind you and puts a hand on your shoulder.

“Look, Veronica, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to get you involved in this.” You shake your head and turn to him.

“He’s just being a git, it’s not your fault. Come on, let’s practice,” you say, smiling at him. After a second of scanning your face, he smiles back and grabs his wand. 

“If you’re sure you’re okay,” he says kindly.

“I grew up with Ron’s dramatics, I’m used to them,” you joke.

“Oh right, the girl from a house full of boys. That had to be fun.”

“It wasn’t bad,” you say honestly. “Just a bit chaotic.”

“I imagine any situation with the twin is chaotic,” he says lightly. He’s smiling at you, his hair messy and somehow still perfectly suited to him. He looks happy, carefree, just a boy for once. You catch yourself staring and blink, shaking your head.

“Right. So, the spell is Accio,” you say, quickly changing the subject. Harry’s smile drops for just a moment.

“Ok, Accio. Got it,” he says sheepishly. 

“Just visualize the thing you want to summon. Here, I’ll try to summon that blanket.” You gesture to a quilt in the corner. Harry looks at you with obvious interest as you take a deep breath and cast the spell. The quilt leaps off the ground and flies into your waiting hand. 

“Brilliant!” Harry says. You grin at him.

“Alright, you’re up,” you say, gesturing him forward. “Try to call your broom from the corner.” 

“Accio Firebolt!” he calls, imitating the way you flicked your wand. The broom doesn’t budge. 

“Ok, that was a good try,” you say. “Try again, and really concentrate only on the broom.” He nods and adjusts his grip on his wand.

“Accio Firebolt!” The broom shudders slightly and falls to the ground. 

“Better! Try again,” you say. He does, and tries again, and again, and again. Sometimes the broom doesn’t move at all, sometimes it moves an inch or so.

“How do you do it?” Harry asks exasperatedly as you demonstrate once more, summoning the broom directly into your hand.

“I don’t know, I just think about the broom flying to my hand and then it just does.” You set his broom back in the corner. 

“Right, that’s very helpful,” he says sarcastically. 

“Harry, your problem is concentration. You’re thinking about something and it’s not the broom, so you can’t perform the spell correctly. Collect your thoughts.” You try to keep your voice soft and gentle. Harry looks at you suspiciously.

“My concentration? You’re sure?”

“I’m positive,” you reply. “Close your eyes for a moment. Ok, good. Now tell me what’s distracting you.”

“The tournament, the tasks, Ron, everything.” There’s something he’s holding back from you. 

“Anything else?” you ask quietly, taking a bold step closer to him. He opens his eyes, his face mere inches from yours. You fail to notice his quick breaths, his dilated pupils. Almost unconsciously, you lean closer, wanting to be as close to him as possible. 

“There’s something else, but I’m not sure it’s something I can get my mind away from.” A ghost of a smile crosses his lips.

“Must be really important,” you say breathlessly. It’s barely more than a whisper.

“She is.” He gets dangerously close to closing the distance, his nose brushing yours. 

“What the bloody hell is going on here?” Ron practically yells. You jump about a foot back.

“I thought you didn’t want to see me,” Harry says evenly.

“Well, you see, I came back to apologize. Imagine that! I come to apologize and you’re snogging my sister!”

“We weren’t snogging, Ron!” you exclaim. 

“Oh, right, just standing an inch away from each other,” he snaps. 

“Are you finished throwing your little tantrum now? Harry needs to practice for the tournament,” you say calmly, gathering yourself. 

“Yeah, of course. I’ll just let you and Harry practice. He’ll be the star of the show again, won’t he? Can’t keep himself out of the spotlight.” He shoots a particularly nasty glare at Harry before stalking out the door once again, slamming it behind him.

“I’m so sorry, Harry,” you start immediately after he leaves.

“No, this isn’t your fault, Veronica. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…that was a mistake.” His words echo in your head after he finishes speaking. A mistake, that was a mistake. Of course it was a mistake.

“Right. Ok, let’s try again.”


	9. The Weighing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SEAMUS AND DEAN CONTENT!!!!! YAYYY!!  
> also I realized after I wrote this that it's basically all dialogue so enjoy that

The next few days are spent rushing through your classes before splitting the evenings researching dragons and practicing the Accio spell. Harry’s mood has improved greatly despite the constant harassment coming from the Slytherins. You nearly broke Pansy Parkinson’s nose when she offered you a “Potter Stinks!” pin. 

“Honestly, the nerve!” you huff as Harry pulls you away from the Slytherins. 

“They’ll take any opportunity to mock me. This isn’t anything new.”

“Don’t they understand that you don’t want this?” you grumble.

“No, they don’t. They think I want this and they won’t listen to me when I say I don’t. So just ignore them, okay?” 

“Fine,” you mutter. “Oh, by the way, did you talk to Cedric?” You and Harry had decided it was a good idea to tell Cedric about the first task. Maybe it would lead to some sort of alliance or something. Any port in a storm, and all that.

“Yeah, he seemed pretty grateful. Maybe he’ll help us in the next task.” Your heart flip-flops when he says “us.” 

“Harry? Harry Potter?” a small voice cries across the courtyard. You and Harry spin around in tandem, searching for the source. A young boy, you recognize him as Colin Creevey, runs towards you both.

“Hey, Colin,” says Harry kindly. 

“Hello, Harry. I’m meant to bring you to the weighing of the wands.” You glance at Harry nervously. Why do they need to weigh wands?

“Oh, er, alright. I’ll find you afterwards?” he asks. 

“Of course,” you reply with a smile. Harry returns the grin and walks off with Colin, leaving you to watch them nervously. 

“Well, hello there, stranger,” Seamus says behind you. 

“Haven’t seen you in ages,” adds Dean.

“That’s because she’s been spending her time with the Chosen One.” Seamus snickers and you punch him in the shoulder, a bit harder than necessary.

“I’m trying to help him live, dumbass,” you say.

“Yes, it’s purely out of the goodness of your heart.”

“You’re insufferable,” you mutter, trying to keep a smile off your face. 

“Have you heard there’s going to be a ball after the first task?” Dean says, distracting you and Seamus for a moment. 

“No, I hadn’t heard,” you state matter-of-factly. “I’ve been a bit busy.”

“Busy gettin’ busy, eh?” Seamus teases. 

“How’s it going with Eliza Marshall?” you shoot back. Seamus clutches his chest dramatically.

“I’m wounded,” he groans exaggeratedly. “You’ve wounded me.” You roll your eyes with a laugh. Dean joins you.

“Always with the dramatics,” he says, hooking his arm through yours. “Now, Miss Weasley, tell me what’s bothering you.”

“What? Nothing, everything’s fine,” you say a bit too quickly. 

“Come on, Veronica, I know you too well for that. What’s wrong?” You sigh.

“I’m worried about Harry, of course. And Ron won’t talk to either of us, and we don’t know nearly enough about the tournament, and I can’t keep Harry safe.” The words all tumble out of you in a rush. Dean smiles kindly at you.

“You’re doing the best you can, and I’m sure Harry’s grateful for it. As for Ron, you know he’ll come to his sense eventually. He’s always been a tad stubborn.” Dean nudges you gently and you laugh a bit.

“More than a tad,” you joke. 

“There’s the sense of humor,” Seamus says, hooking his arm through your free one to sandwich you, like the boys always do when you’re upset. “I was starting to think it had disappeared.”

“No, I’ll always have the energy to make fun of you and my brothers,” you respond, not without affection. 

“Come on, we’re taking you to dinner. I’m starved.” Seamus breaks into a run, dragging you and Dean behind him. You laugh again, a free, unrestrained laugh, as you run after him, for once not thinking about Harry.


	10. The First Task

The day of the first task comes much sooner than you’d like. As soon as you’re out of bed, the anxiety sets in. Today, a 14-year-old boy will face a dragon. 

Seamus and Dean are waiting for you in the common room, and you can see their worry on their faces. They hook their arms through yours, just like always, and parade you down to the Great Hall, talking all the way. You know it’s just to distract you, but you’re grateful for it.

“Are we going to Hogsmeade this weekend?” Seamus asks at breakfast.

“As I remember, you still need to get a dress for the ball,” Dean adds with an exaggerated wink. You laugh.

“You’re correct, for once, but I’m sure you don’t want to help me pick a dress, so you’ll be on your own.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Weasley. We want nothing more than to help you pick a dress,” Seamus says with mock seriousness.

“Well, I’m holding you to that. You know,” you say, lowering your voice conspiratorially, “it could take hours.” Seamus’s eyes widen for a moment before he regains control. 

“Sounds fun,” he says coolly. You laugh at his stubbornness. 

“What did you get us into?” Dean groans. 

“Attention, students,” calls Dumbledore, making you jump. “We will make our way to the Forbidden Forest in order to watch our champions perform their first task. Follow your house’s Head Boy and Head Girl.” A great noise comes up from the Hall, students picking up stuff and shuffling towards the door as one, a mass of movement. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down. Dean puts an arm around your shoulders and rubs your back gently as Seamus grabs your free hand and swings it as you walk.

“He’ll be okay,” Dean reassures you with a small smile. You attempt to return it and rest your head on his shoulder.

“Thank you both,” you say suddenly. “Really, thank you. For, you know, being here.”

“Come on, Weasley, what are friends for?” Seamus replies cheerfully, still aggressively swinging your hand. 

“Don’t go soft on us now,” Dean adds with a grin. 

“Oh, don’t worry, I’ll still make fun of you relentlessly.”

“There she is,” Seamus teases. 

The clearing in the Forbidden Forest is packed by the time you arrive, but Seamus shoves his way through the crowd to find you all a good place in the makeshift bleachers. You look down and your stomach flips. A nest of golden eggs sits in the middle of a rocky expanse in the ground, studded by sharp, jagged spikes. Four large doors line the edges, chains connected to each. You squeeze Seamus’s hand involuntarily. He looks at you and wraps your hand in both of his and runs his thumb over your knuckles to calm you down. It seems like an intimate gesture, but you know there’s never been anything romantic between you and Seamus, or you and Dean for that matter. These boys, your friends, are just that: your friends. Some of your favorite people in the world.

You’re distracted by one of the doors opening. A blue-gray dragon emerges, lumbering out with beady eyes glaring at the audience. 

“That’s a Swedish Short-Snout,” whispers Dean. “It actually has one of the lowest kill counts out of all dragons.” Dean loves Care of Magical Creatures, and you swear you’ve seen him read Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them a million times. 

“A low kill count is good,” you say under your breath, reassuring yourself more than anything. 

“Our first champion: Cedric Diggory!” the announcer calls over the speaker. You cheer with everyone else when Cedric steps out of the champion’s tent, but your thoughts are with Harry. 

Cedric makes his way into the stone enclosure, keeping a safe distance from the dragon. When he raises his wand, though, he has to roll to the side as the creature sends a burst of bright blue flames at him. You gasp as he barely narrowly misses being burned. Without hesitating again, he flicks his wand and transforms a nearby rock into a labrador. The dog barks, distracting the dragon, and the chase is on. The dragon’s eyes are focused solely on the barking dog as it runs around the stone, and Cedric easily grabs the egg and jumps nimbly out of the arena. The crowd erupt uproariously. He grins, waves, and retreats back to the tent, passing Fleur on her way in.

“Next up: Fleur Delacour!” The Beauxbatons girls cheer loudly, and you clap politely, eyes stuck to the girl. Another one of the doors opens, letting a dark green dragon make its way out.

“Common Welsh Green,” Dean says admiringly. “They’re supposed to have the most beautiful roars.” As if on cue, the dragon open its mouth and practically sings. It’s deep and rich, a stunning sound. Fleur looks a bit taken aback, but she steels herself and makes her way into the enclosure, already casting a spell. You can barely hear her, but she seems to be hypnotizing the creature, keeping eye contact while she chants. It’s eyelids droop as you watch, shocked. A trance. Why didn’t you think of that? Sure enough, the dragon falls to the ground with a force that shakes the seats. Fleur smiles proudly and cautiously goes to retrieve the egg.

And then the thing snores.

Her robes light up with green-tinged fire. She bats at them as she retreats, still clutching the egg with one hand. You gasp, along with most of the crowd, but she gets a grip on her wand and puts the fire out with a water spell. Drenched and singed, she makes it out of the pit and heads quickly back to the tent, replaced by Viktor Krum, striding confidently and not even pausing before stepping into the rocky expanse. His dragon emerges from the door, a scarlet beast. It’s smaller than the other two, but it’s head is covered in spikes and even Dean looks intimidated by it.

“What’s that one?” you ask.

“Chinese Fireball. Its diet is mostly humans.” Your eyes widen and you turn back to the task. Viktor’s face is hardened, and he approaches the dragon without faltering. It rears and sends a mushroom cloud of fire at him, but he deflects it without blinking. He really is quite a good wizard, you think to yourself. He works his way quite close to the dragon and flicks his wand. The beast roars terribly and thrashes around wildly. You catch a look at it’s eye: milk white. 

“Blindness,” you say under your breath. Smart, but not smart enough. The only thing worse than an angry dragon is a confused and angry dragon. Krum easily grabs the egg and slips away as the dragon’s tail whips around. He’ll get away, he has the fastest time. 

And then the tail hits home. Literally. The spikes hit the nest of eggs, effectively smashing a few of them. You jump back, even though you’re nowhere near the destruction. 

Despite the slight failure, he exits the pit to extremely loud cheers. 

Harry walks out of the tent. You inhale sharply and clutch onto Seamus’s hand. Harry looks so small from the bleachers, how could he have any hope of fighting a dragon? As if on cue, the last door creaks open. For a moment, you can’t make out the dragon’s form, but then it takes a lumbering step forward.

“Bloody hell,” Dean gasps. “That’s a Hungarian Horntail.” You look up at him in panic.

“Are you sure?” Even you know about those: supposedly the most dangerous type of dragon in the world. 

“Unfortunately, yes.” Dean looks grim, but when he sees your face he forces a smile. You can’t find it in you to return it.

Harry cautiously steps closer, wand at the ready. The Horntail doesn’t make a move. It seems to be watching Harry, almost sizing him up. You suppress the urge to run towards Harry, to pull him away. Instead you lean heavily on Dean, who tightens his arm around you. 

Harry raises his wand. You read his lips as he utters the spell: “Accio Firebolt.” And you wait.

And wait.

And wait.

A swishing sound catches your attention. Something flies through the air, a streak of brown. Harry scales one of the rock spikes, pauses for just a moment, and jumps, landing square on the broom. 

“Yes!” you cheer loudly, relief coursing through your veins. Harry flies around the pit, avoiding the fire that the dragon sends his way. He swoops down, grabs the egg, and shoots back up, away from the beast. 

The next thing you know, they’re announcing the scores.

“In first place, Harry Potter with 40 points!” The shock hits you and you whoop, jumping up and down and hugging Dean. 

“Second is Viktor Krum, 40 points. In third place, Cedric Diggory, 38 points. Lastly, Fleur Delacour with 37 points! The next task will be three months away. If you open the egg, you’ll find a clue!” The speaker goes off and everyone is left to wonder what that clue may be, but your thoughts are only on Harry.


	11. The Party

You nearly skip back to the common rooms, ready for whatever party will he held with Harry in the seat of honor. Seamus and Dean laugh and match your light pace, swinging your arms. A feeling of giddiness you haven’t known in a long time has taken a solid hold on you.

“He was incredible!” you exclaim. 

“Yeah, yeah, your lover boy is exceptional,” Seamus teases. You barely even roll your eyes, your mood too good for being annoyed.

“Will you be sneaking into our dorm tonight?” Dean askes with mock-grandness.

“I most likely will, if you’ll have me,” you return. Whenever Gryffindor has a party, you deposit a bag in the boys’ room beforehand so you can crash there later. It’s a tradition at this point. 

“Of course we’ll have you, Weasley,” Seamus replies incredulously. You smile at him, a genuinely touched smile, before going back to skipping cheerfully up the hill.   
By the time you reach the common room, it’s already packed. The party seems to be in full-swing. You can’t see Harry at first, but you’re more than content to wait around the edges of the crowd until you locate him. Dean sticks with you. Seamus, however, go directly into the mass of people. This is his element. Where you see a place full of people you don’t know, he sees a crowd of friends he hasn’t made yet. 

“Want me to grab drinks?” Dean yells over the noise.

“You already know what I want,” you reply with a grin. He nods and navigates towards the table on the other side of the room. Dean always brings your drinks to you. He’s too much of a gentleman to suggest otherwise, and you let it slide. He knows you’re capable of doing it, he’s just polite. 

You find a place to sit down while you wait for Dean and simply observe the people around you. The other three houses are mad at Harry, thinking it’s just a claim to fame, but the Gryffindors have made him their personal hero. His new first place title only magnifies that. You finally catch a glimpse of him when Fred and George hoist him on their shoulder. Harry laughs an holds the egg up as cheers go up around the room. Dean returns and hands you a drink.

“He’s a celebrity today,” he notes. 

“He deserves it,” you reply. “Harry’s been through a lot.”

“Why don’t you go congratulate him?” Dean asks slyly. 

“I think I will actually.” You hand him your drink and plunge through the crowd, emboldened by the Firewhiskey you just ingested. Harry opens the egg as you get near, not noticing you yet. 

It screams.

High-pitched wailing fills the room. You wince and cover your ears, as does everyone in the room. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Fred and George drop Harry as he struggles to shut the egg. The room breathes a collective sigh of relief when it latches. 

The party disperses pretty quickly after that, but some people still mingle in the common room. Your shoulders tense when you see Ron approach Harry.

“Ron,” you say with a tone of warning. He ignores you.

“Harry, I, uh…” he trails off. “I’m sorry. You didn’t put your name in, you’d have to be a bloody idiot to volunteer for that.” He offers Harry a small smile.

“So you believe me?” Harry asks. Ron nods. “Brilliant.” Harry smiles, and you find yourself smiling too.

“Congratulations, Harry,” you say shyly. He turns to you and his grin widens as he sweeps you into a hug.

“It was all you, Veronica. You’re the reason I scored first.” You hug him back, reveling in the smell of ink and broom polish. 

“We’ll start on the egg tomorrow,” you promise.

“I’ll meet you in the library after dinner?” Harry asks hopefully.

“See you then,” you affirm before heading to Seamus and Dean’s room. You don’t look back, so you don’t see Harry’s eyes follow you as you leave. You don’t see Ron hit him in the arm. You don’t hear Ron or Harry.

“Really, mate? My sister?”

“Sorry Ron, it’s a bit late. I think I’ve fallen for her.”


	12. A Heartache

The next few weeks are quite enjoyable despite the fact that you cannot figure out the damn egg. No matter what you try, the only hint you get is screaming. You end up having to get some headache medication from Madame Pomfrey almost every day. 

“Even though you’re in first place, it feels like we’re on square one,” you say frustratedly on the way to Transfiguration. Harry, Seamus, and Dean are sort of clumped together around you. You find yourself in that odd little group often these days. Almost subconsciously, you’ve begun to refer to them as “my boys.” They all insist that they hate it, but still respond to it without fail. It’s a family in a different sense, not by blood but by choice. You’re all working together to protect Harry, and everyone knows he’d do the exact same for any of you.

You reach Transfiguration a few minutes early. The classroom has been fully rearranged, no desks to be seen. A large megaphone stands off to the side, and bleachers line the room. 

“Girls to the left, boys to the right,” Mcgongall announces. You glance at Harry confusedly before walking over and finding a seat. The classroom fills with students gradually. 

“The Yule Ball is approaching – a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament and an opportunity for us to socialize with our foreign guests. Now, the ball will be open only to fourth-years and above – although you may invite a younger student if you wish. Dress robes will be worn and the ball will start at eight o’clock on Christmas Day, finishing at midnight, in the Great Hall. The Ball is, first and foremost, a dance. I will not have you, in the course of a single evening, besmirching the name of Godric Gryffindor by behaving like a babbling, bumbling, band of baboons! Mr. Weasley, will you join me please?” You giggle with delight as Professor Mcgonagall leads Ron to the dance floor and begins to waltz around the room with him as Filch plays music with the megaphone. Harry sports a mile-wide grin as Fred and George dance around in the corner.

“On your feet and partner up, boys and girls,” Mcgonagall calls. She releases a very red-faced Ron while students begin to pair off. You laugh and nudge his shoulder.

“Getting some action there, Ron, aren’t you?”

“Oh, shut it,” he snaps. You only laugh harder. He scowls at you and goes off to find a partner, leaving you alone in the midst of the floor. Suddenly, you feel so small, so very alone. Couples dance around the room, laughing, talking, moving. You flinch when something touches your shoulder.

“Do you- are you okay?” Harry asks. His eyes are concerned.

“Yeah, yeah, fine,” you reply, forcing a smile It comes naturally when Harry breathes a sigh of relief and smiles back.

“Good. So, do you, uh, wanna be my partner?” His voice goes sheepish and quiet at the end of his sentence. 

“Of course,” you say, taking his hand and guiding him to a relatively empty space. Cautiously, he interlocks his fingers with yours and places his free hand on your waist. You rest your palm lightly on his shoulder as you begin to sway gently to the music. His hands are warm and soft, his touch feather light. You laugh as he spins you around, twirling you under his arm. When you come back to him, you’re much closer to him than you were before. You find your gaze transfixed on his lips for a few seconds before you clear your throat and tear your eyes away.

“Um, do you have any more ideas about the clue?” you asks, rapidly trying to change the subject.

“Don’t think about the clue, or the tournament, or anything outside of this room. Just for a few minutes, okay?” He looks directly into your eyes, almost imploringly. You nod. His smile returns and he spins you again. You see Ron dancing with Katie Bell out of the corner of your eye. He looks stiff as a board.

“So, who will our champion be attending the ball with?” you ask teasingly, as though his answer doesn’t really matter to you.

“Oh, I don’t know, you’ll have to ask Cedric,” he responds in a deadpan voice. You roll your eyes.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“If you must know, I haven’t gotten a date yet.” Your heart leaps. You open your mouth to respond, but Mcgonagall’s voice cuts you off.

“Dismissed to your next class, ladies and gentlemen.” 

You don’t get a single moment alone with Harry in the next weeks. The Yule Ball approaches quickly, and you still don’t have a dress. That’s the mission as you head to Hogsmeade with Seamus and Dean. They need dress robes anyway. 

“So, has Harry asked you yet?” Seamus asks as you stop for Butterbeer.

“No,” you admit. “I don’t think he’s going to.”

“Of course he is! Have you seen the way he looks at you?” Dean asks incredulously. “The boy can barely keep his eyes off you.”

“Well, I suppose he’d better hurry up and ask me then,” you say with finality, hoping to change the subject. To be honest, you have been a bit concerned about whether Harry would ask you or not. It’s not that you expect him to, you just really, really hope he will.

“It doesn’t matter right now, alright? We need to find some clothes so we don’t have to go to the ball in our pajamas,” Dean jokes, nudging your shoulder. You grin and drain the rest of your Butterbeer easily.

“Let’s go then.” 

Finding dress robes for the boys is infinitely harder than finding a dress for yourself. Every time you manage to get them to try something on, it’s too itchy, too uncomfortable, not good enough. You feel like a mother trying to get her toddlers into their Sunday best. 

“For the love of God, Seamus, they’re dress robes, not silk pajamas. You’re not going to be perfectly comfortable.”

“That’s stupid! I want to be comfortable!”

“Too bad!” you shoot back. The boys stand on the little platforms in the shop, wearing plain black and white dress robes, the simplest you could find. 

“I like these ones,” Dean says, always the peacekeeper.

“Good, now convince Finnigan here and we can go.” 

“Seamus, please just wear the robes,” Dean begs. As he’s saying this, a certain Eliza Marshall walks into the store. Seamus snaps his head to look at her, and suddenly his posture straightens considerably. You notice Dean’s face falls as Seamus stares at the girl and your heart twinges a bit. That look is all too familiar. 

“Yeah, I’ll take these,” Seamus says, his voice dropping an octave lower than usual. You roll your eyes.

“Alright, change back and pay. We’re running out of time.”

The boys finally pay and leave the shop with you. Dean’s sunny disposition has returned, but you’re still a bit concerned about him. You make a mental note to talk to him later. Right now, though, Seamus is here and very impatiently waiting on you to pick a dress. 

“Patience, you took ages to choose yours,” you chastise. He pouts like a child, but keeps his mouth closed. 

“What are you looking for?” Dean asks helpfully.

“Something red, I think. And floor-length definitely.” He nods and goes off to stroll along the racks, taking Seamus with him. 

You almost instantly regret telling him what you want, because that boy brings you every long red dress in the store. Not an exaggeration, every single one he finds. Including the ones from the maternity section. 

“Dean,” you laugh, “Thanks for the help, but I’ve got the ones I want to try on.” 

“Oh, alright,” he says brightly. “I’ll get Seamus.” 

You’re only holding three red dresses when you make it into the room, one that Dean picked and two that you picked. Seamus was absolutely no help, as you expected. Excited despite yourself, you pull on the first dress. It’s tight at the bodice, but the skirt is puffy tulle that reminds you of a wedding gown. Off-the-shoulder straps decorated with flowers rest gently on your arms. You step outside the changing room cautiously to see Dean and Seamus sitting on a couch, ready to critique.

“This is the one you picked, Dean,” you tell him. His smile looks almost painful. 

“It’s nice,” Seamus says in what you think is supposed to be an encouraging voice. 

“I think Seamus’s lack of enthusiasm is better expressed by me saying it looks lovely, but it doesn’t quite suit you, you know?” 

“I appreciate the honesty, Dean, don’t look so worried,” you say with a grin. He smiles back in relief as you slip back into the dressing room. The next gown is actually a short gown covered by a long layer of lace, so much of your legs are visible through the pattern. The sleeves and collar are also full lace, and you feel extremely exposed despite the large amount of fabric covering you. When you exit the fitting room, Dean elbows Seamus into looking at you.

“Wow, that’s…” Dean trails off.

“See-through?” you supply. 

“Yeah, that’s one word for it,” Seamus says. 

“Eyes up here, Finnigan,” you tease.

“You look amazing, but I think Mcgonagall would have a heart attack if you wore that,” Dean says.

“I wholeheartedly agree. I’m changing,” you say, hurriedly going back into the dressing room. The last dress hangs on a hook by itself. Taking a deep breath, you pull it over your body. It’s quite form-fitting, but you don’t feel uncomfortable. The bottom flairs out in a mermaid cut, and the whole thing, including the straps, are covered in lace. When you see yourself in the little mirror, you nearly gasp. You look stunning, captivating. 

“Blimey,” Seamus says under his breath when you step out. Dean just stares.

“Is that a good thing?” you ask nervously.

“Who are you and what have you done with Veronica?” Seamus demands. You roll your eyes.

“Very funny. Is it that bad?”

“No, it’s amazing! Seamus is an arsehole, you know that,” Dean insists. You laugh.

“Rude,” Seamus says. “But really, you look nice. That’s as far as I’ll go.”

“A glittering compliment, coming from you.”

“Well, you know me. I’m a charmer.” He overexaggerates a wink. 

You purchase the dress, of course, and carry the bag lovingly back to the castle. Dean and Seamus brought home some sweets and Butterbeer, so you’ve got plans to sit around in the common room until Percy yells at you. When you get there, a few other students have beat you there, including one Harry Potter. He doesn’t see you come in, that’s the only explanation.

He couldn’t have seen you.

If he had seen you, he wouldn’t have turned and called Parvati and Padma Patil back.

He wouldn’t have asked Parvati to the ball. 

He wouldn’t have congratulated Ron on asking Padma.

He wouldn’t have broken your heart in two, just like that.

You feel tears prick at your eyes. Dean puts a hand on your shoulder and stands up, guiding you to his room with Seamus tailing behind you. As soon as you make it in, Dean closes the door and wraps his arms around you, gently rubbing your back with one hand. You let the tears fall, allowing yourself to cry just this once over Harry. 

“Why would he ask her?” you ask later, when the tears have stopped and you sit on the floor of the dorm, leaning your head on Dean’s shoulder and holding Seamus’s hand.  
“I don’t know. I really don’t, and I wish I did. But I do know that Harry Potter is absolutely crazy for you, and is he can’t admit that then he doesn’t deserve you.” You’re silent for a few minutes.

“Thank you. Both of you.” It feels like the right thing to say.


	13. A Confession

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> adfhmacfqlchfcff im so excited to see what you guys think of this chapter

The night of the Yule Ball approaches quite quickly. You’ve been avoiding Harry as much as possible, and therefore you still have no idea about the clue. Dean and Seamus are somehow spending more time around you, which you didn’t think was possible. Anytime they even see Harry, they immediately reroute to move around him. 

You’ve decided to go to the Yule Ball as a trio, since Theodore Nott asked Eliza Marshall before Seamus could. They boys even bought red ties to match your gown, which touched you deeply. You can’t name a time when you saw Seamus wearing his tie correctly. Too loose, lopsided, tied entirely wrong, you name it. One time in first year he just tied it in a shoelace knot and went about his day. 

“We’ll meet you down there, yeah?” Dean says. You’re headed off to get ready after your final class.

“See you down there,” you reply with a grin.

Alone in your dorm, you allow yourself to take the shaky breaths you’d been holding in. Your feet begin to pace, carrying you back and forth across the carpet. 

“You’re fine, you’re fine, you’re fine,” you mutter under your breath, trying to convince yourself. After a few minutes, you manage to regain some semblance of self-control and sit down at your vanity to fix your hair and makeup. The routine will help calm you down. 

Get the hair ties and bobby pins, pin up a twist of hair on both sides, pull out a few strands to frame the face. 

Foundation, concealer, eyeshadow, mascara, blush, lipstick. A pretty red look to match your dress, which you pull over your head carefully and straighten in front of the mirror. 

Earrings, necklace, shoes, grab a purse. Finished. 

Not exactly the makeover scene you see in the Muggle movies that Hermione loves, but your breathing is under control and you’re as comfortable in the dress as you were in the store. Time to go find the boys. 

The stairs are mostly empty, a few stray students here and there. You can already hear the music from the Great Hall from a floor up. The bass of the music reverberates through the ground you walk on, vibrating deep in your skull. 

Dean and Seamus are waiting by the entrance to the Great Hall. They smiles when they see you, each offering their arm to walk with you in their regular way. You grin and go up to them, straightening Seamus’s tie before you accept their arms.

“You look very nice, boys,” you say as you walk into the Hall. 

“As do you, Miss Weasley,” says Dean in a mock formal voice, making you laugh. The laugh quickly turns into a gasp as you enter the hall. It’s been fully transformed. What was once your dining hall is now a palace of ice and snow. Everything is covered in white or blue. Ice sculptures stand all around the room, even the drinks and food are on tables made of ice. Blue flames burn brightly in lanterns, casting light on the three large Christmas trees at the top of the Hall. It’s stunning.

“Come on, let’s watch the opening dances,” Dean says, leading you off to the side. As if on cue, the doors open once again and the champions walk onto the dance floor with their dates. Fleur leads, arm in arm with a boy you recognize but couldn’t name. Then Krum and… Hermione Granger? In a stunning pink dress, hair pinned up in curls around her head, Hermione was being led to the center of the room by Viktor Krum himself. You cheer loudly. She smiles and waves at you. Cedric and Cho go next, both looking the very picture of Hogwarts excellence. Mcgonagall claps happily when they walk out.

And then there he is.

Harry, his arm linked with Parvati Patil’s, walking into the room. He’s wearing basic dress robes, but the butterflies residing in your stomach still flutter around a bit when you see him. Parvati looks stunning as well, a pink and orange sari contrasting against her skin. They look good together. They look like champions. 

The music begins, and the four couples go into their rehearsed choreography, dancing around the room. The sight of Harry that close to Parvati makes a lump form in your throat, but you swallow it and force a smile. Dumbledore and Mcgonagall join the dance, and then other couples, until the dance floor is full. You’re more than happy to be in the crowd that hangs back a bit. 

“I’ll get drinks,” Seamus says into your ear over the music before disappearing into the crowd. You look over at Dean, who is watching Seamus leave with the same expression you saw before.

“You’re being pretty obvious,” you joke. He blinks and looks at you.

“Uh, what do you mean?” 

“Dean, you’re an awful liar. You forget that I know you just as well as you know me. I see how you look at him.” Dean sighs.

“I guess you know now,” he mumbles, head lowered.

“And it changes absolutely nothing. You’re my best friend, Dean, I don’t care who you love as long as you’re happy.”

“Really?” he says, looking up from the ground. 

“Of course. You deal with me pining after Harry all the time, I can hardly complain.” You smile at him, and he returns it after a moment.

“A couple of hopeless romantics, aren’t we?” he says.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Seamus returns with the drinks and the three of you settle on a bench near the wall to watch the formal dancing before the real music starts. House elves wander the room, offering food and drink refills, which you indulge in happily. Everything is delicious, as usual, and the boys keep you thoroughly entertained. 

Once the slow dances stop, the Weird Sisters make their entrance and begin to play. Seamus insists that you get up to dance, pulling you and Dean onto the floor. “Do the Hippogriff” blares through the Great Hall. The noise is almost deafening, but the string bass is almost calming, vibrating through the floor. Dean spins you around, making the bottom of your dress flare out as you laugh. Seamus catches your free hand and sways you back and forth between the two boys. You’re with two of your favorite people, in a dress you love, not thinking about your worries for once.

Of course something has to ruin it. 

Out of the corner of your eyes you see Harry dancing with Paravti Patil. He’s smiling at her, looking at her the way you dream he looks at you. Your stomach drops. You feel nauseous, cramped up in the crowd. Dean notices quickly and squeezes your hand. It’s a silent question, an “are you okay?” that you recognize immediately. You shake your head and pull away, heading straight for the door. Dean rushes out right after you.

“Hey, what’s wrong? What happened?” He puts an arm around your shoulders and guides you to a bench to sit down. 

“Harry,” you say. It’s the only thing you need to say.

“I’m sorry, Veronica. I know how it feels, and I’m so sorry.” You lean your head on his shoulder as he wraps the other arm around you.

“Why did he ask her?” you say quietly.

“I couldn’t tell you. The way he looks at you, I just know he’d do anything for you.” He looks down at you with a small smile. “You’ll be just fine, okay?” You nod a bit. 

“Dean, thank you for staying, but could I be alone for just a bit? I’ll be back in soon.”

“Of course. You don’t have to come back in if you don’t want, and you’re welcome to stay in our dorm tonight.” He gives you a short hug and gets up, giving you a reassuring smile before heading back into the ballroom. 

Left alone, you decide to get out of the castle as quickly as possible. There’s a bridge pretty close to one of the smaller doors, and it’s calling your name right now. Your heels clack as you move through the hallways alone, echoing in the emptiness. When you reach the door, the first gust of cold air hits you and you take a deep breath, relishing the way it stings your lungs slightly. 

The bridge is past a few trees, overlooking the lake. The water twinkles under the stars, a vast expanse of blackness punctuated by a pinpoint of light here and there. If it weren’t the middle of the night, you’d be compelled to take a swim. You sit down on the bridge, slipping off your shoes and letting your feet hang over the side. It’s freezing cold, but you don’t mind. The air clears your thoughts. You suddenly flinch as you feel something on your shoulders. 

“You’re shivering,” a voice says behind you. Harry sits down next to you, his robes now wrapped around you.

“What are you doing out here?” you asks, skipping the pleasantries.

“You and Dean left, only he came back. I decided to find you. You have loud shoes,” he says calmly, as if he was making a statement about the weather. 

“You shouldn’t have come out here,” you say shortly, refusing to meet his eyes.

“I need to talk to you.”

“Bit late for that.”

“I fancy you.” You look at him, surprised. He looks nervous, but there’s no trace of joking or doubt in his face. 

“You… you do?” you stutter.

“Have for a while now, but there was always a reason for me to not tell you. You’re Ron’s sister, I was too busy almost dying, you would say no.” He shrugs as he trails off. You look down at your hands, unsure of what to say. 

“Do you, uh, do you fancy me?” he asks softly.

“Of course I do, Harry,” you reply, completely exasperated. “Merlin, you’re oblivious.”

“Oh, brilliant!” he exclaims, face brightening in a wide smile. There’s a few moments of comfortable silence before you work up the nerve to say what you want to. 

“Harry, why did you ask Parvati?” You look into his stunning green eyes and see a mind full of apologies.

“I wanted to ask you, honestly. But when I saw you in the common room with Dean, I sort of thought you would go with him.” His brows furrow in embarrassment. 

“Harry James Potter, you are the most oblivious boy I’ve ever met.”

“Yeah, that’s what Hermione said too.” You laugh. “So, you’re not mad?”

“I’m not mad, Harry. I just… I’d like to hear you say it. How you feel.” He looks surprised.

“Oh, okay. Well, I think you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, and you’re funny, and you’re kind, and I really, really fancy you.”

“Good,” you say simply before leaning in and kissing him. He reacts immediately, putting a hand on the back of your neck and pulling you in further. You’ve imagined this kiss for years and it’s already exceeding expectations. You wouldn’t be surprised if there were literal fireworks going off. When you finally break apart, you’re both breathless.

“So what are we now?” you ask quietly.

“I’d say if I’m lucky enough, you’re my girlfriend.” You kiss him again in response.


	14. A Beginning

You and Harry go back inside eventually, where he explains to Parvati what happened. She takes it quite well, saying she’s glad he was honest and that she’s happy for you both. While he’s doing that, you go find Seamus and Dean.

“Did I see you walk in with Harry Potter?” Seamus says slyly.

“You mean my boyfriend? Yes, you did,” you reply, beaming. Dean’s eyes widen to the size of dinner plates before he hugs you tightly, lifting you clear off your feet and spinning around. 

“Finally confessed, did you?” Seamus teases.

“Actually, Finnigan, he told me how he felt first.” Seamus grins and pulls you into a hug as well.

“I’m happy for you, Weasley. Just don’t forget about your little friends now that you’re dating the Chosen One.” 

“Of course not. I need someone to make fun of.” Dean hugs you again before releasing you to go find Harry again. 

When you see him, he grins and grabs your hand, pulling you closer to him. You press a quick kiss to his lips, reveling in the simple truth that you can do that now. 

“You look absolutely stunning,” he says quietly. “Really, Veronica, you can’t blame me for thinking you’d go with Dean. It’s his loss.” You blush. If only he knew where Dean’s eyes were drawn.

“Come on, Prince Charming, let’s dance.” You tug him onto the dance floor. There’s a hard rock song playing, students jumping around and dancing. A thought pops into your mind. You put your hands around Harry’s neck and look at him expectantly. After a moment of confusion, he gets the drift and takes your waist, swaying you back and forth like a slow dance. 

“How romantic,” you say with a laugh. He smiles and kisses you sweetly, pulling you closer to him. You sigh happily, running your hands through his hair, forgetting the people around you for a moment.

“Make room, lovebirds!” a shrill voice yells. You and Harry both shudder as Peeves flies between you. Having a ghost go through you is not pleasant. Harry scowls at him as he floats away, giggling all the way. You try to suppress a smile at his expression.

“What?” he says, confused.

“Nothing,” you assure him. “I’m just happy.” His face softens, confusion melting into a smile.

“I’m happy too. You’re just… I’ve fancied you since first year. And now I can kiss you whenever I want,” he says mischievously. 

“Really? Prove it,” you respond. He raises his eyebrows playfully and kisses you, brushing your cheekbone with his thumb and keeping one hand on your waist to keep you as close as possible.

“I swear if Peeves come back I’ll find a way to kill him again,” he mutters after breaking away for a moment. You giggle and close the distance once more. 

That evening, you and Harry go up to the common room together, arm around your waist. You’ve discovered that he has absolutely no problems with having his hands on you, but he hasn’t been anything less than a perfect gentleman either. When you reach the common room, he looks a bit unsure of what to do. You press a kiss to his lips, short and sweet.

“Goodnight, Harry.”

“Goodnight, love,” he replies with a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short and sweet <3 big stuff coming soon!


	15. DISCLAIMER

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ THIS DISCLAIMER! IT HAS SOME IMPORTANT INFORMATION!

Hii! There will be most likely be some smut coming soon, and possibly a few more graphic descriptions of the second and third tasks. I will be putting any possible trigger warnings before each individual chapter, and smut warnings of course. If you have any specific trigger warnings you'd like me to include, drop them in the comments and I'll make sure to warn you if any of your triggers will be appearing. 

As for the smut thing, I have decided to age up these all the characters, so Veronica and Harry will both be 16. It'll mess with the timeline a little bit obviously, but I feel really weird writing smut for 14-year-olds. 

If you have any plot suggestions or requests, I'd love to hear them! I have the next few chapters planned out, but beyond that I'm pretty much all ears. I'll also be taking requests for other fics. I'll do pretty much any character/reader, and as for character/character it would be situational, but feel free to ask!

Thank you all so much for the support! Kudos really do give me the motivation to keep writing, and I appreciate everyone who has taken the time to read my stuff! Love you all <3

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and Comments are appreciated <3


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